Brother Mine, Brother Mine
by AbbyTheBlue
Summary: When Sam Winchester runs away, he has a perspective-changing dream in which he and Dean had reversed roles as brothers, and learns the pros and cons of being in charge of someone. (Profile image not mine)


The plan was already in motion.

It was easy to take the impala, Dean's keys were always somewhere near him. He slept like a log, and I was able to leave without a sound, slip right in, and leave the hotel without him even stirring. I was already behind the wheel. I was doing it. I was running off. I was gonna go kill the yellow-eyed demon. It felt amazing.

My attention jerked from the road as my phone rang for the fourth time this car ride. I didn't even have to check the caller ID, and I immediately pressed hang up. It was Dean, yet again. I wished he'd stop calling me, as though he really cared. Maybe he did.

I didn't care what Dean thought.

I went to a hotel I would normally go to; I figured he'd think I would try to look as though I'm not myself and go somewhere I'd never go to. But no, I picked a hotel that looked just right, pulled in, and got out of the impala. Step one was finished. Step one of running away.

My phone was buzzing like it was the apocalypse, getting calls from Dean and now Bobby every which way. I tucked it in my pocket as I walked through the crisp air. It was freezing and late, but even just a little hardship felt good. I was on my own now, so screw Dean.

When I walked in, the first thing my eyes found was the clock. It was already midnight, and I could barely hold my eyes open. I don't remember the details as I got my key and walked to my room. I just remember flopping down on the bed, anger still burning in my heart. He tried to hold me back, he says it's to keep me safe, but he's really just selfish. He just doesn't want me to be my own person, he's too busy holding on to his stupid little baby brother. Well, that wasn't me. Not anymore.

 _Fuck you, Dean_ , I thought. I was filled with confidence, I was ready to go through with it. _I hate you. I hate you…_

And I was already asleep.

I awoke to a piercing light in my eyes. I groaned. Mm… not ready to get up yet. I blinked heavily, the light blurring in my eyes. I lifted my phone, heart ready to drop at the nine million missed calls I would undoubtedly see. Shockingly, however, there were no missed calls. Dean hadn't tried to call me once. Odd, I thought. I dropped my phone on the bedside table and rubbed my eyes.

"Hi Sam!" I heard a voice call. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, looking into the bathroom to the reflection in the mirror, of Dean brushing his teeth. Except something was off about him. I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Mm… Dean?" I asked, disoriented. What was he doing here?

"Well, duh." He responded. He turned around, putting down his toothbrush, to face me. I stared at him. Nothing was noticeably different, anyway. But there was a sort of glow about him. Was he… shorter? No, I knew Dean's height like the back of my hand. His smile was sort of different, less weighted, and his eyes seemed a little more… round. He was the same size, but had an air of being smaller, and his clothes fit perfectly, but looked like they were a little too big on him. Was he… younger? No, that wasn't it either. What was going on?

"Dude, what is it?" He asked finally. It was only then I realized how long I'd been staring.

"Uhm, nothing, did you…" He thought about what to ask. "Get new clothes or something…?"

He looked down at himself. "No." He said suspiciously. "I… never go clothes shopping. I've had these clothes for years, Sam."

"And something else, too," I continued. "You haven't called me Sammy once this morning, usually it's all you call me."

He scoffed. "No, I don't!" He replied, a tone of frustration in his voice.

"Yeah, you do." I responded.

"Dude, that would just be weird, it makes you sound so much littler than me." He scoffed, as he turned back to the mirror and ruffled up his hair. I stared off at the wall for a moment. Really Dean? Must I state the obvious?

"I _am_ littler than you," I said.

"What?" He asked, turning back around to face me.

"I said I am littler than you."

"What on Earth are you talking about? Jesus man, you must have been up late last night." He said with a scoff. He pointed to himself. "I'm 28," He pointed at me. "You're 32. Older than me."

"I… what?" I asked. The concept was bizarre, but that would explain why Dean looked kind of like a little kid. My god, was that how he saw me? "Oh, yeah, uh..." I caught myself. I was probably dreaming, I thought. "Yeah, sorry, weird dream."

"Whatever you say, Sam." He replied. He plopped down on the other bed. "So, dude, let's go. We've got a case."

"A… case?"

"Those vamps, remember?" He prompted. I'm not sure why my heart jumped at the idea of vampires and Dean, but in a split second, a thousand images of Dean getting killed, getting turned, flashed in front of my eyes. I shut my eyes tight and rubbed the bridge of my nose. That was ridiculous, Dean faced vampires all the time.

"Yeah," I said casually, only a moment of hesitation gone by. "Yeah, let me just wake up a bit." I stood and walked over to the bathroom, splashing my face with cool water. This was weird, but I knew it wouldn't last. I was dreaming. A weird dream, but only dreaming. I took a moment to lean over the sink. I was a little different too. Even though I was immensely tall before, I looked almost taller now. I wasn't though. I knew I was the same height and size. But the way my shoulders seemed to straighten, and my face looked more stark made me look older and bigger and taller. I turned away from my reflection. It barely even looked like me.

"So, uh, vamps." I said, hoping to get a little more from Dean.

"Yeah. I mean, it's obvious, all the victims have clear marks. I can't find any relation in anything, though. The victims, the crime scenes, nada. I've got no clue where this nest is." He explained.

"Huh…" I said.

"You wanna talk to the parents of the most recent victim?" He asked.

"Yeah," I responded. This was easy. It was actually kind of cool being the older brother for once. I could do it better than Dean, anyway. "Yeah, sounds good."

We left the room at the same time, swinging on our coats simultaneously. We stepped out into the crisp air. I breathed it in. Fresh. Definitely an omen. Maybe everything else was a dream, he thought. Maybe I'm actually older. What an amazing thought.

He stopped when they reached the impala. Dean didn't falter, swinging into the passenger seat. My heart fluttered. I was gonna drive. No argument needed. I got into the driver's seat. The keys were already in the ignition. I tried to hold back a smile as I turned them. My foot went down on the pedal. My hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.

"So dude, what's the address?" I asked as I pulled out.

"122 Waterway Street." He responded. I nodded, beginning to drive down the road. After a moment or two of silence, I began glancing at Dean. No music. He was looking at me oddly, too, but he was first to speak.

"So, what, no Green Day? No Chili Peppers, nothing?" He asked. I gave him a look. Those were two of my favorite bands, but certainly not his.

"You mean I… play the music?" I asked carefully.

"Well, usually." He said with a shrug.

"You… hate the Chili Peppers. I thought they were just a wannabe rock band who can't sing so they rap instead." I quoted him.

"Well, yeah, kind of, I just…" He said. "You always put on your music."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

I grinned. "Awesome." I said, and I clicked on the radio. It was already set to the engaging baseline of "Can't Stop" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The grin spread across my face as we rode to the music I'd always secretly loved.

I looked over at Dean. In his eyes there was no sign of objection to the music. In fact, I could see him slightly nodding to it. The Dean I knew would have shut it off before most people could even tell what it was. He was fine with it. Nothing was stopping me. _A guy could get used to this,_ I thought.

The drive was longer than the song, and Dean spoke just after it ended.

"You're acting weird." He said.

"Weird? Weird how?" I asked innocently.

"Weird as in you've played the same music for three years and you act like it's some big shocker." He stated. I shook my head and shrugged.

"Honestly I was just up really late last night." I lied. He glanced at me suspiciously. He knew I was lying, of course. He looked back out the window as soon as we arrived. We stepped out and shut our doors simultaneously. He stepped up beside me, and I rang the doorbell.

"Hold on!" A call came from inside. Female, and clearly very anxious. I could hear rushing around from inside. "Just a moment!"

A moment later, a woman answered the door. She looked frazzled and half out of breath, her blonde hair strewn out of her loose bun, and her eyes wide and panicked.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice exasperated

"Hello, miss, we're from the FBI." I held up my badge, and Dean did the same. It seemed like he held his up half a beat after mine. Maybe it was just my imagination. "We need to ask you a few questions about your child."

She sighed heavily, as if she knew this was coming. She stepped back. "Please, come in." She offered. She sat down on one of her sofas, and Dean and I followed her in. The house was cluttered, and I could hear a baby crying in another room.

"Tracy was a sweet girl, I want you to know." She began, looking down. "I mean, she wouldn't hurt a fly. My little angel…" She looked away for a moment, then flustered, back at me. "I mean, as in, no one would want to kill her for revenge. That's what you guys ask, right, if anyone would want revenge?"

I chuckled softly and nodded. "You're one step ahead of us, ma'am." I responded.

"Have there been any recent changes in behavior recently, new friends, new hangout spots?" Dean interjected.

She looked down in thought. "Well… she had been going to this old warehouse. At first I thought she was smoking, or something, but she took me along with her one day, and every day after she'd always call. She just found some new friends she'd wanted to meet up with. And then one day she went and when I didn't get a call…" She trailed off. "That's where that monster killed her, right? 14 Waterway street?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, miss. And what were the names of her new friends?"

"Oh well, only one of them was new. She was hanging out with Deborah, Abigail, Jessica. They just had this mutual friend named Karla, who I've never actually met. I know where Deb, Abby, and Jess live though." She added quickly.

Dean nodded. "Thank you," He said. "Those addresses would be very helpful." She nodded and immediately grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen off the cluttered coffee table. She scribbled down three addresses and handed them to Dean.

"Just… find whoever killed my baby and make sure he pays for what he's done." She asked strongly. I nodded.

"That's what we're here for, ma'am. Thank you very much for your help." And with that, Dean and I stood up (again, Dean a tiny bit after me) and left the house.

"So, how about I take the warehouse and you go interview the friends?" He asked casually as he walked back to the impala. I stopped him.

"Whoa whoa," I remarked. "On your own?" I was confused immediately after I said it. Of course on his own. What was this?

"Of course on my own." Dean replied. "Jeez, Sam, it'll just be a couple of vamps, if anything."

"Yeah, but what if-" I began. I could hear a note of panic in my own voice, and could feel it in my eyes as I looked down at Dean. Again, horrifying visions passed through my head. Dean getting killed, getting slaughtered… "I'll go with you." I said finally, to break the chain of scenes in my head.

"What? No! Sam, I've got this." He said angrily.

"Dean!" My own voice startled me. I wasn't the younger brother, pleading Dean to let me do what I asked to no effect, I was the older brother, insisting Dean do what I knew was right, because I made the rules. You would have thought that power would feel good, but I found it terrifying. Silence came afterward. My god. Was he actually going to listen to me?

"Fine…" He grumbled, as he got back into the car. My eyes widened. I could hardly believe that had actually, for real worked. I barely even had to say anything. I got into the driver's seat.

After a moment of silence pressed against the car window, I considered putting on some of my music, but for some reason it made me feel sick to my stomach. I didn't want that. Not really. I wanted what we always listened to, what the normal was. Quite frankly, I had been feeling incredibly stressed since this whole dream started. Everything I look at, I imagine Dean dying in some way caused by it. Is this how Dean sees me? I wondered. Does he really worry this much all the time? How has he not died of a heart attack?

"You wanna listen to some AC/DC or something?" I asked finally. Dean looked up at me like I had two heads.

"You hate AC/DC." He stated. I shrugged.

"Hey, if you want to listen to something else-"

"No, no." He cut me off. "I mean, I'm cool with it just… yeah, cool." He finished. He turned on the radio and changed it over to the song he liked (You Shook Me All Night Long) as I began driving again. Driving the impala had lost its thrill. I almost wanted to sit in the passenger seat.

I looked at Dean. He was barely even Dean, really. I mean, it was him, but he was so different, and I found that it wasn't just my view of him. Personality-wise, he had changed from the casual Dean I knew. This Dean was more polite, more polite to the mother we had just interviewed, more polite to me. He didn't make any references. His motions were less casual, more robotic, and he seemed like he needed more approval, more say in what he did.

As I continued to think, I found even little details had changed. He sort of awkwardly smiled for half a second when he didn't know what to do. He held his shoulders straighter. He talked about research with a gentler, less gruff tone in his voice. He sat down with his back straight. And then, a horrible realization dawned on me.

Those traits and little actions were… me. He was copying me. Waiting a half beat to see if I'd approve, taking after the stiffer nature I knew I naturally had. Whether it was intentional or not, he was mirror-imaging _me_.

This scared me more than anything so far. Not because it was eerie and weird that my older brother was copying me (although that was definitely true), but because it meant I wasn't allowed to make any mistakes.

It wasn't a long drive to the old warehouse. We were there in only three or four minutes, as it was on the same street as the house we had come from. When we pulled around the corner, I saw it, looming overhead. It wasn't any different from any other creepy old warehouse, but somehow it seemed more frightening. Like Dean could get crushed in its shadow.

I pulled into the immense, rectangular parking lot then stepped out of the impala, Dean following after. I turned and opened the trunk. Vampires, I thought, so I withdrew the saber and the flashlight, for chopping heads and seeing that you definitely did. Dean grabbed a different knife, still very large, still adequate. I shut the trunk and began to head inside.

I noticed Dean staying a step or two behind me. I tried not to mind, but I felt like I had no support. I wish he wouldn't copy me, really. I'm a terrible influence.

Inside was like I expected. It was dark, and wet, and warehouse-y. I turned on the flashlight, crossing the hand that held it over the hand that held the saber. Neither of us made a sound. We both listened, and did nothing else.

Finally, through the darkness, we could hear light snoring from the other room. We both followed the sound, our footsteps totally silence. As we turned into the other room, we found them. Strewn across hammocks, and sleeping bags were various people in stark black clothes still asleep. Beside them was a young girl, struggling against chains on her wrists. They hadn't bled or turned her yet. Probably saving her for later.

Dean walked carefully over and broke the chains with his knife, helping her stand up.

"Thank you," She whimpered softly.

"No prob," Dean whispered back. "Can you get out of here on your own?" She nodded, rubbing her wrists. Alright, go!" Dean said. She nodded again and hurried out of the room and out of the old building altogether. Dean turned to me. He nodded, then did nothing. I guess he… wanted approval to start killing them. Confused, I nodded back. I was right, as he began to take them in their sleep. There were only a few, so it was done in a few seconds, at most.

We stepped out of the room, our knives soaked in blood. Dean looked either way, checking for more, but something caught his eye. He stared down the hallway, opposite the door. I followed his eyes, and found it too. Something was… glowing.

"What do you suppose that is?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"No clue." Carefully, he began walking down the hall. It was relieving to actually be behind him for once since this started. As we walked around the corner, more and more candles came into view. They were forming a circle, some sort of ritual. I couldn't identify it at first sight. Then, by the time we had stepped almost completely into the room, we saw someone. He was a man, with graying hair and a suit, looking down at the candles. Slowly, he turned his head to look up at us.

And his eyes were a cloudy yellow.

As Dean pulled a gun out of his back pocket and tried to step forward, I wrapped one arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder. No way was he going near that demon.

He struggled against me, but I was bigger and stronger than he was even when I was younger, but now that I was older there was no way he was moving any further. He growled in fury as the demon smirked.

"A little caught up Dean-o?" He chuckled. Dean snarled.

"Dammit, Sam, I can handle this! Let me go!" He shouted.

"No way Dean!" I responded. I knew there was no way I could let him go and get hurt, no way he would handle it. I imagined him getting torn to shreds, getting killed, and I knew I couldn't let him go. Slowly, the demon turned, walking toward the window.

"No, Sam, he's getting away!" Dean cried, squirming under my hold and trying every tactic to get away. Dean pulled away harder as the demon opened the window and jumped out. "No!" He panicked. When the demon was gone, I loosened my grip and he broke out, leaning over the window. He stopped when he looked, head falling. The demon was gone. But Dean was safe.

"Dammit…" He whispered. He flipped around and looked at me, fury in his eyes. "How could you fucking do this to me?! This was the moment we have been looking for since forever, and you decide to hold me back?!"

"We weren't prepared Dean," I replied. "We didn't even have holy water!"  
"Screw prepared!" He scoffed. "I could have handled it!"

"No, you couldn't have."

"Maybe not, but you wouldn't even let me try! If I go down swinging against the son of a bitch that killed my mom, I'll live a happy life in heaven!" This made my heart jump. No way.

"I'm not gonna let that happen." I said, my voice deeper and firmer than I expected.

"Dude, I just told you I'm okay with it! Why the Hell do you have to be so selfish?!"

"Selfish?! I'm trying to protect you!"

" _I don't want protection!_ " he said slowly, as if he were spelling it out for me. "I want to be my own person and not just be the baby anymore!"

I sighed and looked away. My own words back in my face. "Dammit, Dean, don't say it like that…" I said softly.

"Say it like what?!"

"Like I would!" I said sharply back.

"What do you mean?!" He shouted.

"I mean you've been acting like me since I got here, and in case you haven't noticed," I gestured to myself. "I am a terrible influence!"

"Well, it's not like I've got anyone else!" He said. I remained silent, and his voice softened. "Mom's dead. Dad's gone." He said, a sadness in his eyes that tore at my heart. "The only thing that ever makes me feel like they're still here, that they were _ever_ here is the idea that I can even try to gank that demon. And if I die-"

"No-"

" _If_ I die." He continued. "You'll be the only one to suffer from it." He paused. "Stop being so selfish," He said softly. He turned away from me, and walked out the door.

"You coming back to the hotel?" I asked, intending to take the impala.

"I'll walk." He growled, and slammed the door behind him.

The conversation ran through my head as I got into the impala. I knew that conversation, I thought. I knew it like the back of my hand, although it was like we had switched parts. I could hardly believe the things I had said, the things I had previously loathed to hear. I knew it was his choice, whether to pick life or death, but I just knew I couldn't let him go. Maybe it was being selfish, but I didn't want to admit that. I drove back to the hotel and went inside.

I knew that Dean was a pretty fast walker, but he would probably want to take his time in seeing me again. I don't know why that ripped at my heart so much, to think he didn't like me. I could barely even conceive it. I ran my hand through my hair. My god… If this was a dream, I really wanted it to be over. Was this really what Dean felt all the time? All the fear? Seeing everything as some sort of threat to me, weighing the cost of happiness and safety all the time? Quite frankly, I didn't know what to do. I looked over at the table as I heard I got a text. I grabbed my phone and looked. It was from Dean. Maybe he forgot the way. My heart sank when I saw the words on the screen.

 _Goodbye forever, selfish bastard._

My heart started racing a mile a minute. I knew what had happened exactly. He was off to find the demon. Why hadn't I assumed he would run off, I was so stupid!

I sprang up and hurried out of the hotel without even grabbing my coat, tucking my phone in my pocket. I darted into the impala, driving before the door was even closed. I had no clue where he'd be, but still I drove with full confidence. A small part of me, a small instinct knew where he was. I put the phone to my ear, trying Dean's cell. No answer.

"Dammit, Dean, pick up the phone!" I said, my voice shaky. I watched as I found myself pulling into the abandoned warehouse. I wasn't certain he'd be here, but a part of me clearly was, as I sprang out and ran in. I prayed he'd be in there, totally safe. Please, God, let him be safe.

In the same room were the same candles as before, and a devil's trap across the room. I looked around.

"Dean!" I called. But finally, up against the wall, I spotted him. My heart stopped. He sat motionless against the wall, a knife through his heart and his head fallen against his chest. "No…" I whispered. Oh God. Every horrible fantasy I saw when I shut my eyes had become reality. I could barely even move. He was dead.

I'd thought him dead before, but it wasn't the same. It was much worse. Because this time, along with the obvious mourning, was an indescribable feeling of failure washing over me, tearing me to pieces. I wanted to die.

Finally, I found the strength to go over to him. I sat beside him. I cradled him in my arms, and he looked like he was sleeping, like he looked like so many years ago when he was just a peaceful little kid with not a care in the world. Tears began to run down my face. "No…" I whispered. "Oh God…" My shoulders shook as I held him tighter. "I'm so sorry…" It was all my fault, I knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. My voice trembled. "It's like I had one job and I… I screwed it up." I said the words, for some reason vaguely familiar in my head. "I blew it." I looked down at him, and then back away. I couldn't bear it. "Oh, God, Dean, I'm so sorry…" I shut my eyes tightly, and pressed my head against his head, just praying that this was a dream, and that I could please, just wake up from this nightmare.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was dark. There was no Dean in my arms, no filthy warehouse around me. I was in a bed.

I sat up with a gasp. I was here, in the old hotel room, as though nothing had even changed. Before I even took another breath I grabbed my phone and called up Dean. I pursed my lips, hoping he'd answer. I could feel tears on my cheeks and in my voice, but I'd try not to let him hear them. After two rings, I got an answer.

"Sammy?!" He cried. I sighed. It felt good to hear his gruff tone, to hear him call me Sammy.

"Yeah… it's me." I said.

"Oh my God, thank God I found you!" He sighed. "I was looking everywhere for you, don't do that to me ever again!" I didn't say anything to knock him, as I knew what he expected to find, the horror he could have felt.

"Dean, I'm sorry," I started, tears coming out in my voice. "I just, I was upset and-"

"Hey," He said gently. "It's okay, just, where are you? I'm gonna come get you." I glanced out the window at the neon sign for the hotel.

"Moonbeams Hotel." I said.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," He said, about to hang up.

"Dean, wait!" I pleaded. "Th-thank you." I said, and it was true. I had no idea the things he had to go through. The stress alone would be enough to kill someone.

"Hey, it's okay, man, what else am I here for?" He said. "You're my little brother."

"Yeah…" I responded, a tone of comfort in my voice, and for once I didn't mind being the baby, or listening to Dean's obnoxious music, or being controlled, or having his shadow looming over me. I had support. I had him to back me up when I fell down. I leaned back in my bed, a sense of relief washing over me. I shut my eyes. "Yeah, I am."


End file.
